Secrets
by GothPhantom
Summary: Carly thinks scars are awesome. So do I, really. Just not mine. I don't really like my scars, seeing as they're all in the same place. Yeah, I use to cut myself. Get over it. Carly x Sam, Two Shot. T for Language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

**A/N: So I know I'm totally knew to this fanfiction, so I'm starting out little by little. I'm pretty sure this'll be a two shot, or MAYBE a three shot. I completely love feedback. :D **

**Chapter One**

Carly thinks scars are awesome. So do I, really. Just not mine. I don't really like my scars, seeing as they're all in the same place. Yeah, I use to cut myself. Get over it.

Times had been rough. I couldn't handle my mother's insanity then. So I just found that physical pain made the emotional pain go away. It was pretty simple, at least to me. It was the same process every night. She'd come home drunk, scream, hit me, and I'd run to my room crying and slice my thighs. Pretty simple.

Carly and Fredward never knew. At times I knew she was suspicious of something or another, but I don't think she ever full blown believed I would cut myself. She knows everything else about me- some of the things she knows hurts her more than I wish they did. She knows my mother's crazy, but we both know she means well. When my mom's sober, she's just like any other mother- but when she's drunk, not so much. Carly's never seen my legs, I've always done a pretty good job of keeping them hidden. When we were getting ready for bed I'd ask her to grab me a drink or something to eat, or to pick a movie. She looks away every time.

I've been clean for almost two years now. That's pretty good, considering I went to therapy for suicidal thoughts in middle school. Carly never knew about that either. I had trusted one of my friends with my problems, but she went and told the guidance counselors at the school. I know, what a bitch, right? I guess she meant well, too. Just like my mom.

These thoughts always pop in my head as I walk home from Carly's every evening. My past and the bits and pieces that Carly doesn't know, and never will know. Sometimes I wish I could talk to someone, when the addicting feeling comes. But I just have to push through it, desperate not to pick up a stupid knife. I'm at my house now and turn the door knob.

Bam. I mean, that's usually not a good way to enter the room, with something flying and hitting you in the face. "What the heck?" I screamed, clutching chin. My mother chucked her stupid cell phone. It hit my lip pretty hard. Damn, not again.

"Samantha!" My mom slurred, holding a bottle of Vodka in her hands. Vodka's her choice drink. "Where the heck have you been?"

"Carly's. Ya know, where I'm at every night?" I rolled my eyes, not feeling like dealing with her.

"Don't you talk in that tone! Get your ass over here." She chucked something else at me, but I managed to dodge it. Man she's annoying. I'm not even intimidated by her anymore.

"What, mom." I ask plainly, pulling out my cell phone after feeling a faint vibration.

"You're over there all the time." She mumbled, trying to make eye contact but failing miserably. "And you're never with that boy."

"That boy is annoying. Just like you every single night." I stated, trying to focus on the text from Carly. It wasn't anything interesting, she just asked if I made it home okay. I thought it was sweet.

"I'm not the dyke." Whoa, what? I looked up and found my mother awkwardly in my face. God, her breathe reeks of alcohol.

"I never said you were?" I blinked, closing my phone and figuring I'd text her later.

"You. You're a _dyke_." She said bluntly, taking a swig from the bottle. "You like girls. You like Carly."

Okay, now she's going a little bit over bored. "Who the hell are you to assume that? You're not a god damn mother, you're a drunk." I breathed angrily, my hands balling up into fists. "She's my best friend. God, you're so stupid."

My mom blocked the door to the hallway in my room. "Uh uh uh Samantha! I know you're secret."

"Seriously, mom, I don't want to hear this shit. Move so I can go to bed." I demanded, grabbing my back pack off the floor which I had dropped earlier. She just stared at me, clutching the bottle in two hands like it was new born baby.

"Don't get pissed at me because you like her." She said, still not moving. My god, she's been pretty ridiculous lately, but when she brings up anything about Carly, I get really, really angry.

"I don't like her mother. Get that through you're thick head." I told her, crossing my arms across my chest.

"You like her, Samantha." She taunted me. "You like her, and you know she doesn't like you. She likes boys and such, and you're a girl. You're a girl, and you're a dyke. You're a dyke, and you know she won't love you."

"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed, throwing my back pack at her and storming up the stairs into my room. I was shaking like I had taken drugs. How does she know? How does she know how I feel about Carly? This is ridiculous, this is bull shit. Who the hell is she to tell me how I feel?

I fumbled through my night stand drawers. Searching and searching, I found it. I found that stupid knife of mine, that I've kept in there for the past three years. Ever since I had started cutting, and even when I quit- it was still there. I felt the handle and flicked it quickly, revealing the blade and it's glow. I stared longingly, hardly seeing my reflection. The sharp edge of the knife was almost like a calling. Cutting was addicting, regardless of what anyone says.

_No_. I voice in my head drew me to reality. It almost sounded like Carly. But I knew it couldn't have been. I looked down- While I was in the moment I had thrown my pants off. The scars stared at me almost as intently as the knife did.

Just once. Just once to get rid of this dying urge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

**A/N: Yeah, it's a two shot. Pretty simple haha. I really like reviews, but I guess people don't like to write them. Haha. Enjoy :D**

**Chapter Two**

So I may have went a little over board.

My thighs look like an animal came and tried to kill me. I'm bleeding everywhere, literally. It's a massive pool. Grabbing my pants to somewhat help cover it I peaked out my door, looking for my mother. With her nowhere in sight, I made a run for the bathroom. Safe in there, I looked at my cuts, and sighed. I really shouldn't have gone this far. Take some cool water and a wash cloth I tried to gently wipe the blood away. It was difficult though. One of the cuts was literally as long as my finger, and a good three fourths of an inch deep.

I gave up. The blood wasn't going to stop coming out of my cuts. With much anger I threw my jeans, ignoring the sharp pains that immediately happened on contact. "Fuck." I muttered, zipping them up and flushing the toilet to make a sound. I looked at the time. It was two thirty. And I'm not staying here.

Grabbing my back pack again I passed the living room. "Going to Carly's." And closed the door while she screamed the word, 'dyke', at the top of her lungs. Awkwardly walking through the pain, I put Carly on the phone. Three rings later, she picked up.

"Hello?" She asked sleepily. Crap, I woke her up.

"Hey," I said casually, flinching at every step I took, "do you mind if I come back over?"

"Of course Sam. When will you be here?" Man, I love her. She gets concerned so easily about me. Well, for good reason.

"Give me five...Ten minutes." The pain reminded me that I couldn't run, even if I was getting chased by a rapist.

"Alright. Be careful." She said, voice full of worry. I exhaled, closing my phone as it read, 'call ended'. God my legs hurt like a bitch. This is ridiculous. After what seemed like the longest walk of my life I made it to her apartment. As I entered the building, I heard a rude, "Hello." From Lewbert, and ignoring that I went to the elevator. Hitting the eighth floor, the doors closed, and I stood awkwardly by myself.

I would usually climb up the stairs, but that just wasn't going to happen.

Hearing the ding, I walked two doors down the hall and turned, face to face with Carly.

"I waited for you." She said, pulling me into an embrace. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I lied, returning the hug, "my mom was just being herself. I didn't feel like dealing."

"I totally understand." She took my hand and brought me inside. Man, I get this weird static every time she's around. I hate it.

It's really dark in here. It was even dark in the hallway, with very dim lights as if not to wake anyone. Carly turned on the light in the living room. She gasped. I looked at her, confused.

"Oh my god, what happened?" She let go of my hand and stared at my legs. I looked down.

Shit.

I bled through my pants. The stains on my thighs were completely noticeable.

Frozen on the spot, I had no idea what lie I could come up with. "Uh, I fell on the way over here. In some dirt."

"That's not dirt, Sam." She stared, almost like she was afraid to move. It was almost seeping through, like my pants were the ones bleeding. How the hell can I cover this up? "Did your mom do this?"

I hesitated. Crap, hesitation. It doesn't matter what I say now, because she'll know I'm lying. "No." I said plainly, figuring there was no way to get around this.

She blinked furiously. Oh my god, is she crying? "You need to get out of those clothes." She stated, as if she was in a trance. I followed her up to her room, where she gave me a pair of pajamas. We both stood there. "Let's go in the bathroom so I can see, please? I want to make sure you're okay."

I kinda stood there for a minute, then started walking very slowly to the bathroom. My god, this can't possibly get worse. She's going to see everything, the new cuts, and the old scars. I'm fucked.

We walked into her bathroom and she shut the door. She wouldn't look at me, and it hurt. I stood still for a moment, then took my pants off as fast as I could. I had to just show her really quick, like ripping off a band aid.

Have you ever done something you like, immediately regretted? That's what just happened.

She looked down, and gasped so loud. I didn't look at her. I just couldn't. She stared blankly for a moment, and then I heard a sniffle. "Sam...did you do this?" She asked, barely above a whisper.

I never thought this day would come. I couldn't even talk. I just kinda stood there, hardly breathing because of how much pain I knew I was causing her. I nodded automatically though, when she asked. And she noticed.

"Sam...I..." She couldn't find any words to say either. This moment is absolute torture. "Why?"

I just can't find any words in my heart. I got my jeans off from around my feet and grabbed the pajamas. She grabbed my hand. "Don't." She went to the cabinet and pulled out some hydrogen peroxide. I knew that shit would sting. She got a cotton ball and put the stuff on it, before bringing it to one of my cuts.

I yelped. "Shit!" I muttered, not expecting the sting to be that bad. She didn't respond. She just kept doing it to all the cuts and scratches, being as gentle as I could. Even though this was not the perfect situation, it made my heart race. I mean, Carly's so careful with everything she does, and I admire that so much. I just really admire her.

Before I knew it, she was done. She stood up, threw the cotton balls away, (She had to use almost like, fifteen), and just walked out the door. I put on the clothes she handed me and followed her. She went outside on the balcony, out the doors of the studio. I closed the door behind me, and looked down. This is worse than I could ever imagine. Why couldn't I just come over, get some ham and beef jerky, and we go and watch a movie like we always do?

She looked so pretty in the moonlight.

"I can't believe this, Sam." She said quietly, looking up at the stars. "I honestly can't."

"I'm sorry." I breathed, standing away from her. I didn't know if she wanted me close.

"I had no idea you were this stupid."

Okay, that was uncalled for. "Stupid? Carly, you have no idea what happened." I told her as I felt the anger burning up inside me.

"You are stupid, Sam. Nothing, and I mean nothing could bring you to such a low level. You cut yourself, Sam. And I had no idea. I thought you would tell me, of all people, instead of barging into my house bleeding like you're going to die."

I swallowed. "You don't know what happened." I stammered, trying to remain on top like I always am. "She said some things tonight that I just couldn't handle."

Carly turned to me. She was crying now, every tear not missing a beat. "What could she have possibly said?"

"It doesn't matter." I snapped, leaning on the balcony and looking down. Oh my god, is that tears I feel? Holy shit! This is stupid!

The brunette girl came towards me and placed her hands on my shoulders. She made me face her. "Tell me what happened, Sam. I need to know."

"I use to cut, Carly." I said bluntly, looking her in the eyes. "But I had quit. I hadn't done it in over two years. But tonight she was drunk, like always. And she said things to me that really bother me, emotionally. I just couldn't handle it. I'm not as strong as you think I am, Carly. Not when it comes to that."

She cried a little more, her hands falling off of my shoulders but the gap between us remaining small. "You are strong, Sam. You just don't have self control." There was a silence. It wasn't awkward, but anyone could feel the tension. It was as though she was kind of accepting it, but still not approving. "Please, tell me what she said."

"She said I was a dyke," I told her, knowing it sounded pathetic, "and she got to personal with it."

Carly shook her head. "There's something you're not telling me. Just tell me."

"She said I was a dyke! She said I was in love with a girl, and that's the reason why I'm over here so much. She said I was in love with you!" I felt my heart sink deep in my stomach. "And it hurt so much, because it's true. I've lied to myself for so long, Carly, so long, and being told that someone knows who you really are, is so painful."

Hot damn, that did not just come out of my mouth, right? I mean, I didn't just confess my feelings for Carly the same night she found out I was cutting myself, right? This all a dream, right?

Carly looked at me and her face softened. She pulled me close to her, fulfilling the hug I wanted from her since she found out about my cuts. I whispered into her shoulder, "I'm sorry."

She leaned her head away and looked me in the eyes. "Promise me."

"Promise what?"

"Promise me you'll never do this to yourself again."

Before I could say another word her lips had caught mine, and I almost melted in her arms. She pulled away to soon for my liking, but I leaned my heads on hers and closed my eyes. This felt so right, in every way.

"I promise."


End file.
